


Hold Up

by Pancakepants



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Pain, Sick Fic, Trypophobia, descriptions of serious illness, no puns, reset awareness, sad fic, severed limb, small holes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pancakepants/pseuds/Pancakepants
Summary: Sans continues pretending that everything's okay, even when they've reached surface. A brotherly tomfoolery changes everything.





	Hold Up

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this drabble in my folder for months, so I decided to get the first part done for the [ Undertail Fan Fiction Contest](https://undertailfanficcontest.tumblr.com/post/162896091540/fanfic-contest-rules). I'll also draw art about the most gruesome scene later on.

Snow floated down gently in featherlike flakes, as Sans stepped through the newly fallen snow. Onlookers would’ve seen him do his signature grin, lazy grouch and slow shuffle, as he trudged along the street towards his and Papyrus’ apartment. Those who didn't know him, looked at him curiously. Those who knew him, shook their heads in amusement, since his skull and shoulders were covered in snow. It wasn't even snowing that much, but that's just how slow he seemed to be. Typical Sans! He smiled and waved lazily to the monsters and humans who greeted him. 

Some loose snow gave in, making his foot slip. He halted himself from possibly falling and continued, as if nothing out of ordinary had happened, as it was supposed to be. 

Inside his mind he was screaming obscenities.

An ordinary person would've wailed in pain. Anyone else would've limped and grimaced at every step. But Sans was magnificent at acting. 

The slip happened on his worse leg, too. Not only had it felt like the sudden movement ripped his femur off his pelvis inlet, if he would've fallen, he might've just dusted right there and then. He wasn't naive. Something was horribly wrong with him, and it was getting worse. 

He still remembered how it had started. Back in the Underground, his joints had started to ache. First only when lifting something heavy, or when going up the stairs. Then, any movement caused pain. His bones felt weaker, as if the magic filling his bones was less dense and swirled around, agitatedly.

Then he noticed the tiny holes. 

First in his pelvis, then in the top of his right femur. From a mirror he could confirm, that his spine and left scapula were also starting to form holes. They’d cause him immense agony when touched and bled his magic when irritated, maybe akin to an infection in humans, so he avoided touching them. Soon, the pain was continuous. 

In real time, this all had started about one year ago.

But he'd lived through the resets.

Those countless, repeated days mashed up together in his mind, but he did remember, how the pain wouldn't cease for what felt like years. During the resets where the kid was good, the pain was tolerable, but during the worst ones, when he was forced to fight… He tried not to wallow on those.

He’d realized pretty soon, that he was the only one who was aware of the resets, and that he couldn’t affect the outcome in any way, no matter what he tried. It became easier to pretend that all was fine, as everyone would've remembered only till the next reset anyways. He made the mistake of telling Papyrus once, and while his pampering and nagging about resting was cute at first, it was even more heartbreaking to see how he completely forgot, when the next reset started. 

Pretending became his reality. An obsession, a validation of his control. He didn't feel cold in the same way was monsters with flesh did, but he started to wear his hoodie and mittens continuously. Even the light pressure of the clothing felt uncomfortable on his most affected bones. The holes hadn't spread past his femurs, so he still wore shorts and slippers. Handshakes were common, and painful, so he started pranking people with a whoopee cushion, so they'd avoid shaking hands with him, annoyed by the habit. He still forced himself to shake the kid’s hand every time, and even their feeble squeeze hurt.

Finally, the resets stopped. Frisk led them out of the Underground for the last time, and Sans felt like he could finally catch his breath, when they had stayed under the open skies for a couple of weeks. But he’d gotten so used to his situation, so used to pretending, that it had become part of him. He didn’t know how to stop. And as time started to run normally again, so did his condition worsen.

Every time he’d thump down the stairs, or jump down a rock, a small, tiny fracture would form in his spine vertebrae. Only he could hear the tiny cracks, and only he could feel the horrible painful crack of bone, as tiny shards would dislodge and turn into dust. Soon he realized, that standing up straight was not only immensely painful, but also almost impossible. Moving his limbs became a tedious chore, and even getting out of bed was a fight that he fought fiercely every morning, after a night full of pain and nightmares.

He’d reached their apartment complex while deep in his thoughts. He felt relief, at least he didn't need to walk or go up the stairs anymore, especially since they lived in the 8th floor.  _ thank the stars for elevators _ . 

Sans sighed. His magic reserves had also been gradually decreasing, ever since the resets ended.  He felt even more exhausted than before, and he knew it wasn't only because of the pain and lack of sleep. He hadn't used his shortcuts for months now, as he wasn't sure could his body handle it. If this kept going on however, would the magic that keeps him alive also start to diminish? What if there was a dangerous situation and he'd need to fight or move people to safety? 

What if Papyrus was in danger and he couldn't help because of his situation?

Sans’ mind cleared at that thought. He really didn't have a proper reason to hide his condition any longer. As he opened their apartment’s door, he decided that he'd go visit Alphys after lunch. After that and maybe a short nap. Or maybe he'd just visit after the weekend, better rested.

The aroma of a slightly burned pasta sauce filled Sans’ nasal cavities the moment he stepped in. Papyrus had really gotten better with his cooking after starting to follow cookbook recipes, instead of Undyne’s instructions. They'd had to rebuild the kitchen only twice and repaint it mere five times by far. Sans dropped his outside slippers haphazardly on the floor, putting on his inside slippers.

“ ‘m home, paps.”

Papyrus peeked around the corner from the kitchen. He had his frilly cooking apron on, and his whole frame was blotted with red blemishes. At least it wasn’t completely completely covered in red. Maybe they no longer needed to scrape the sauce off the ceiling, since he didn’t cook it at maximum heat anymore. Papyrus’ brow bones were scrunched and his grin was turned downwards in disappointment.

“SANS, YOU ARE HOME! ONE HOUR EARLIER THAN YOUR SHIFT ENDS, AS PER USUAL.”

“c’mon papyrus, yesterday i came after my full shift.”

“THE DAY BEFORE THAT YOU CAME TWO HOURS EARLIER.”

“true, but-”

“AND WHILE YOU CAME BACK NORMALLY ON TUESDAY, YOU ACTUALLY WENT TO WORK THREE HOURS LATE.”

“eh, i felt like a post-sleep morning nap was needed. gotta preserve my good looks."

Papyrus’ eyebrow twitched.

“WHAT LOOKS.”

Sans pretended to look hurt, setting a palm onto his chest and the back of a hand onto his forehead. He actually had to suppress his expression, when a sharp pain radiated from his left scapula, as he moved it.

“you hurt me, pap! what about my supple, smooth face bones? my pearly whites? the shine of my eyeballs?”

Sans caught Papyrus smirking, even when he clearly tried not to. So his humor wasn’t completely lost on him. He just wanted out of the situation, to finally sleep and to forget his aches for a moment. He’d just need to get through his brother and the lunch first, without waking any suspicion.

“I AM NOT SURE ANY OF THAT MATTERS, WHEN YOUR WHOLE FACE IS COVERED IN GREASE AND KETCHUP STAINS FROM DAWN TO DUSK! I RECKON YOU WILL NEED A CHISEL TO GET ALL THE GUNK OFF, BY NOW. DO YOU EVEN STILL REMEMBER, WHAT A MIRROR IS?”

“barely, since you spend all your time fawning over it, covering the thing.”

“PARDON?”

“oh,  _ please _ . i’ve seen you in the bathroom, holding a mop over your head, face smeared in copious amounts of lipstick- where did you even get that from-, singing into a brush.” Sans imitated Papyrus’ higher, nasal tone. “ ‘ _ oh, my luscious locks, how they glimmer! nyeh heh! mettaton will surely notice me-’  _ ”

“YOU SAW THAT??  _ I MEAN _ \- NOTHING LIKE THAT HAPPENED!!”

The space filled with Papyrus’ screeching and Sans’ chortles, which he tried his best to control, so as not to jostle his aching bones and to keep up the Papyrus act. Pasta sauce flew everywhere, as Papyrus flung his wooden spatula around, while stomping his foot. 

“ _ ‘i hope he’d just-  _ snerk-  _ tackle me and let me gaze into his robot bishounen eyes, here and now!’ _ “

“I WILL SHOW YOU A TACKLE!”

Too late did Sans realise what his brother had said, as he opened his eye sockets from his mirth. His expression darkened rapidly as he saw the lanky, mischievously grinning skeleton grouching, preparing for a pounce. 

_ oh no. _

“w-wait, pap, i think you shouldn't-"

But Papyrus had launched at him already. It felt like time slowed down. Sans had no time to dodge, no matter how good at it he'd become. He tried to call forth his magic to shortcut even slightly to the side, but it sputtered in his soul, unwilling to budge. He barely had time to brace himself, leaning on his better leg, hoping for the best.

_ papyrus knows about my hp, he's always been careful with me even during training, he'll tackle me softly, it will hurt but otherwise it'll be fine- _

Papyrus crashed onto him. 

Sans heard a sickening crunch somewhere beneath him. 

Someone was screaming. 

Everything faded to black.   
  


 

~~~

  
  


Consciousness came to Sans, slowly but surely, uninvited. He would’ve rather stayed dormant, even with his soul feeling as restless as it did. The familiar pain, usually welcoming him right away when he woke up, was greatly dampened. He actually felt almost pain free, and involuntarily tried to make a surprised voice. His voice didn’t come out however. His soul felt... light? But also filled with something foreign? And the magic, normally coursing through his bones, binding them, felt sluggish, barely holding his essence together. Everything felt numb and he almost couldn’t find the willpower to try to move. But when he did...

_ something is missing. _

His eye lights sparked to life, unfocused and barely there. He was laying in an empty, sterile looking room, blinded by the fluorescent light ceiling lamps. A glance down confirmed the light pressure he'd felt, he was covered with a sheet. He considered unsheathing himself, when he noticed the rustling of the curtain being drawn next to him, between him and whoever was behind it. It was like all voices were porridge, slow and slurred. He heard various electrical peeping, together with agitated talking. With a lot of concentration, he could recognise the words said behind the curtain.

“I’ll c-close the curtain, for a m-moment only, so y-you can concentrate. Tell me again, slowly, w-w-what happened.”

“O-OKAY.”

He heard a hiccup and intake of deep breath.  _ papyrus? why did he sound like that _ ? 

“HE- HE JUST CAME HOME EARLY, ACCORDING TO HIS NORMAL LAZY DEMEANOR AND I WAS COOKING DINNER, THIS- THIS NEW RECIPE I WANTED TO TRY OUT, SOMETHING CALLED  _ FATTY POMERANIAN _ , AND I WAS JUST GRATING THE CHEESE CALLED  _ GRAND PADDLING _ , IT SMELLS FUNNY, AND-”

“T-to the point, Papyrus!”

“Y-YES, SORRY, DOCTOR ALPHYS. EITHER WAY, HE CAME IN, I EXPRESSED MY OPINION ABOUT HIS EARLY ARRIVAL, AND- AND HE MADE FUN OF MY BATHROOM HABITS, SO I DECIDED TO TACKLE HIM LIKE I USED TO, AS A BABYBONES, IT SHOULD NOT HAVE HURT HIM AT ALL, I T-TACKLE EVERYONE VERY SOFTLY, AND- AND-”

Sans heard Papyrus hyperventilate while Alphys was apparently trying to calm him down by letting out hushing, squeaky noises. After a while, Papyrus calmed down enough to talk again. 

“THERE WAS A SOUND. IT… IT SOUNDED AWFUL. NOT AS AWFUL AS MY BROTHERS LOUD SCREAM AS HE FELL, I HAVE NEVER HEARD HIM SOUND LIKE THAT, THERE WERE SHARDS AND M-MARROW EVERYWHERE, AND I COULDN'T WAKE HIM UP NO MATTER HOW I SHOOK HIM AND SHOUTED--”

Sans stopped listening after that. Alphys kept on trying to calm Papyrus down, while starting to explain Sans’ condition. He decided to check for himself. He lifted the blanket.

He was naked, but he barely noticed that. First he noticed that his Soul had been summoned. Not only that, but it was barely alight, darkened from the center, much further than he’d remembered. It’d been awhile since he’d last checked his condition, afraid of what he might find. There was also a needle sticking out of it, explaining the doughy feeling. What was Alphys pumping into him? Pain killers, obviously, and… He glanced down.

_ … and magic substitute... _

Sans would’ve thrown up, if he had anything inside him. The top of his right femur had severed completely off of the rest of the leg, and the end of it had been haphazardly bandaged. He could see, how the top of the femur and pelvic inlet  was riddled with holes of various sizes, colouring the bone almost black, making it look like moldy, porous cheese at places. Some of the holes were gently leaking out magic, but it wasn’t the normal colour. The substitute magic chemical had diluted the colour to almost transparent. He imagined his left scapula and parts of his spine to look the same. It had never looked this bad before. He had no clue, that he’d been living close to what looked like the brink of death, through all those resets.

Someone had gathered all the pieces of the rest of the leg and tried to order them how they're supposed to fit together. There was plenty of dust on the mattress, as the smallest pieces were visibly disintegrating. The leg was turning to dust at a slower pace. There was a bandage on it too, together with a needle. Alphys was trying to save the leg.

“... I’ve s-stabilized him for now, but his situation looks very b-b-bleak. Healing magic doesn’t s-seem to work, so I… I’ll need to- I can’t- well- I-I’ll figure something out. I-it's a miracle he didn't dust i-immediately during the accident, he must’ve gained e-extra HP through rest or other m-means. A-a-are you sure you didn’t know about his c-condition earlier?”

“I TOLD YOU ALREADY, I HAD NO CLUE! SANS NEVER TELLS ME ANYTHING!! CAN YOU FIX HIM? PLEASE?”

“...I'll try my best, Papyrus. W-what I’ll need to do, is...”

It became harder and harder to concentrate on listening. Sans’ eye lights threatened to extinguish, as he felt himself drift further away from reality. He was tired. He’d been tired for  _ so long _ . Everything felt increasingly unimportant, as his feelings and thoughts were replaced by a warm haze. It’s fine, to stop holding on, right? He’d done all that he could. He regretted not coming forward with his condition earlier, sure, but he’d had a decent run, he’d raised Papyrus, made a ton of puns, seen the Surface and the stars. He wished to see them one more time. Ah, here’s the most important of them.

Alphys and Papyrus emerged back from behind the curtain, towering over him. Sans wanted to tell Papyrus that everything’s gonna be okay, be good and all that, but… He finally felt himself let go.

 

“SANS, ARE YOU AWAKE? SANS? SANS!!”

**Author's Note:**

> ... I'd consider losing a limb as a new experience?
> 
> I have continuation ideas for this fic, which would make it way, way sadder. Can't stop, won't stop. Tell me if you're interested!


End file.
